"Truth" is the Enemy of Wisdom

   “With or without religion, you would have good people doing good things and evil people doing evil things. But for good people to do evil things, that takes religion.” ― Steven Weinberg.    This is a common and popular quote among those who consider themselves humanists or rationalists.   It is, however, misguided, in that it is incomplete.  Yes, any form of superstition is inimical to rational, empirical philosophy; I would have no argument on that point.  However, I would posit this: the ultimate rival for rational thought is not religion, but the belief that we have, or even can have, the “Truth.”

    Let me state right up front that I am certainly not saying that no statement is ever true; that would be a form of insanity.  If I am holding a penny in my hand, it would be a true statement, at least at this time and place, to say “I am holding a penny in my hand.”  That statement would be true.  It’s verifiable, assuming that I am not alone.  You can look and see that in fact I am holding a penny.  We can make true statements about indirect empirical observations, as long as we are clear about the context: If I step off the side of this 10 story building, I will fall.  This statement is true, albeit only on a body with sufficient gravity.  We can affirm certain statements as true in logic and mathematics; I can say, “If two lines are intersected by a third line and the opposite interior angles are equal, then the lines are parallel.”  This statement is true, at least within the framework of Euclidean geometry.

   The problem arises when we try to make absolutely true general statements about the nature of society and the universe, statements that go beyond the immediate circumstances.  There are two problems with such statements, actually.  The first is the epistemological one: do we have sufficient evidence to make a particular statement?  For example, was Tyrannosaurus Rex a scavenger or a predator?  It does appear that an adult T-Rex was too large, too slow, to hunt down prey, at least as a solitary hunter.  The prey all seem to be fleeter than he was, so how could he hunt?  He certainly did have the bulk and the power to steal a meal brought down by faster, more agile predators; a dromeosaurus certainly could not defend his kill from a hungry T-Rex.  On the other hand, perhaps he was a predator; a juvenile T-Rex was certainly faster than the adults, and perhaps they hunted in packs, not alone.  I read that a ceratopian—I think a Triceratops, if I remember correctly—was found with T-Rex bite marks that were in the process of healing when he died, so he was bitten while still alive.  The fact is, we don’t know, do we?  This is one of those situations when we have to admit that the information is insufficient for us to make a general claim of truth about a proposition, and let it go at that.

   The other, much more sinister problem with making broad absolute statements is that they tend to assume a moral aspect, particularly when they concern social issues.  To take the above example about the T-Rex: if I believe that he was, at least in part, a predator, and you accept the proposition that he was a scavenger, what is the significance of these contradictory statements?  In reality, not very much, is there?  Most people could not possibly care less about the eating style of a T-Rex or any other dinosaur; they are extinct, and the interest is only academic.  This is certainly not true when we come to social and political statements, because these can have significance for our daily lives.  If we are not careful, we can fall into the tendency to treat opinions, and even carefully reasoned judgments as if they wear the mantle of Truth.  When we become emotionally engaged in an issue, we forget that any statement we make about the external world is incomplete, because it is based only upon the data that are presently available.

    When we think that we have the Truth, then it becomes easy to treat those who disagree with us, not as having another opinion, or not even as being wrong, but as being evil.  Those who hold a different opinion are on the side of the forces of darkness, while our side is allied with the forces of light and reason.  When someone who differs from us is not just wrong but evil, it becomes permissible, or even obligatory, to engage in conduct that could only be considered as falling into the category of good people doing evil things.  This attitude certainly does not require religion in order to thrive.